Poetry

They name it magician To navigate beyond platonic existence

This talk tells

My God who art a man like me

Resurrection in place

I don’t have enough to give

You have a lot to like about you

Every hero has learned a lesson

I am understanding more but also less

I’m so tired of writing

Everything I do is wrong- I awaken

It was the summer of Chandra Levy, disappearing from Washington D.C., her lover a Congressman, evasive and blow-dried from Modesto, the TV wondering

God says to write the spots on the leopard

I will subtract one

God tells me- I am going to fry

How can you speak so authentically

I’m doing the best I can do!

You’re so far from me

God is scaring me with threats

Four things that make the poet rhyme:

I am sorry I am less than ideal

I understand the masters plan

In Seattle, the rain is short, thin and weak, like thousands of tiny little angels spitting on you from a distance.

The Illuminati invaded the U states ages ago

The world is meaningless w/o you

Falling failing fast

A fire beyond fire burns in my soul